by RC Boldt
REMEMBER WHEN
Teach Me Series, Book 3
RC BOLDT
Remember When
Copyright © 2016 by RC Boldt
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 0-9968938-2-2
ISBN 13: 978-0-9968938-2-4
Editor: There For You Editing
Cover design: Wicked By Design
Formatting: Champagne Formats
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products references in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Visit my website at www.rcboldtbooks.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Note from the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
DEDICATION
Matty,
You’re the sole reason I know that happily ever after exists.
Thanks for giving me mine.
P.S. I still love you more.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I tend to write about many of my real-life experiences, as is the case with the characters who are teachers. When it comes to the military aspect of my books, I draw from my husband’s experience as well as those whom I’ve had the exceptional pleasure of meeting and, in some cases, chatting with. These men have witnessed and endured some of what I would have to classify as the most utterly horrific events—such events that most of us would deem unimaginable—and came out on top. They chose to not let those events, nor their injuries, define them. They have been shot numerous times, been the victim of an IED or also, in some cases, left to fend for themselves with only the ability to crawl in their attempts to gain safety. The rescue described by Miller was based on an actual rescue by SEAL Team Six and is truly an utterly impressive and awe-inspiring account.
Regardless of your feelings on the matter of war, please know that the men and women who are serving their country are sacrificing far more than time away from their loved ones. They are sacrificing for all of us so that, in the words of George Orwell, “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
PROLOGUE
Tate
Alliance, Ohio
November twelfth
Sophomore year in college
THERE WAS NO MISTAKING THE glaring ‘Return to Sender’ stamps on the letters I held in my hand. Staring down at the letters I’d just retrieved from my mailbox in the commons area on campus, I couldn’t ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Miller and I had begun dating during our senior year of high school and it had been nothing short of spectacular. When the popular quarterback of our school’s undefeated football team had slid into the vacant seat beside me in AP Biology, asking if I’d be his partner, I had been surprised, as the two of us normally gravitated in completely different circles. No, he wasn’t a dumb jock; I had noticed him in some of my other AP classes, but still. I had been the Editor-in-Chief of the yearbook staff. Not exactly scintillating by high school standards.
We had grown closer, become friends, as we dissected animals and I’d discovered that we worked well as lab partners. Far better than I’d ever expected. We began studying for our tests and, little by little, I warmed up to him. When he’d asked me to go to the Homecoming Dance with him, I had been decidedly cautious.
“I don’t know …” I had hesitated. “Don’t you think you’d be better off taking Kalli? Or Stephanie?” I offered up names of the two extremely popular cheerleaders at our school. These were girls who showed absolutely no hesitation in fawning all over the tall, handsome Miller Vaughn with his sparkling blue eyes and dark hair. He was extremely muscular, even for a high school senior, and with his six foot three frame, he appeared intimidating to many.
Miller had given me a patient smile. “Tate, if I wanted to ask someone else to Homecoming, I would have. But I didn’t. I asked you.”
Looking up into his eyes, I had thrown caution to the wind. “Okay. But if it turns out to be like a scene from the movie Carrie, I’m going to be really pissed.”
His head was thrown back in laughter before gazing down at me with a tender smile. “Tate, I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
And he hadn’t. We had gone to the dance and he’d been a perfect gentleman, opening doors for me, holding my hand, his shoulders thrown back with pride as he walked into the gym with me on his arm. I’d had more fun than I had ever expected. And when it came time for him to bring me home, his soft lips pressed against mine in the sweetest kiss.
From that point on, we’d been inseparable. And by the time graduation came around, he had told me he loved me and wanted to be with me, for us to go to the same college. When we had both been accepted to UMU, it had seemed like it was meant to be—like we were meant to be.
Until the end of our freshman year.
Miller had gotten the devastating news that his cousin, Marcus, older by two years, had been killed over in Iraq. He and Marcus had been close, like brothers. It had hit him hard. So I wasn’t entirely surprised, a few days later, to hear Miller’s decision to join the Navy, with the intention of becoming a SEAL like Marcus. We had talked about what to expect and he’d brought me with him to speak with the recruiter downtown. I knew that there would be long periods of time where I wouldn’t hear from him
, especially if he made it through to BUD/S training. And I had no doubt he would. Miller excelled at anything—everything—he put his mind to.
When I’d said good-bye to him that August before my sophomore year of college was to begin, I had done my best to hold back the tears. I’d wanted to be strong for him, to support him.
Miller’s thumb had lightly brushed away a stray tear from my cheek, gazing down on me tenderly. “I love you, T. This doesn’t change anything.” He’d pressed a brief kiss to my lips. “I hope you know I plan on spending the rest of my life with you.”
I knew the surprise on my face was evident when he’d chuckled softly. “Don’t you know you’re it for me?” His eyes had searched mine and I recognized the love shining there in the depths.
“You’re it for me, too, Miller Vaughn.” Raising up on my toes, I’d brought my lips to his and whispered, “I plan on loving you forever, so please be safe.”
Coming back to the present, I stared down at the letters in my hands.
“More got returned, huh?” My roommate and best friend, Cassie, peeked over my shoulder. “Weird. Maybe there’s some sort of snafu with the post office?” she suggested hopefully. But, I heard the doubt in my friend’s voice. The same doubt that I, too, felt.
Turning to face her, I shook my head. “You’ve seen the box already stuffed full. I have a bad feeling about this.” Staring down at the letters, I considered my options. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. Glancing up, I asked, “Hey, Cass? Feel like going on a small road trip with me?”
“Where to?” she asked cautiously.
“Miller’s mom’s house.”
She made a face. “That woman is evil, Tate.”
I sighed. Miller’s mother was intimidating, that was for certain, but evil might be going a bit far. “She’s not evil, Cass.”
My friend shot me a look. “The woman does not exactly give off the ‘I’m sweet and kind just like June Cleaver’ vibe. Quite the opposite in fact. She’s not nice. Like, at all.”
Well, okay, so there was that. I’d never really warmed up to the woman and always felt like she was standoffish. But, I’d chalked it up to the fact that Miller’s parents had divorced at the beginning of our senior year of high school, leaving it just the two of them. Miller’s mother had chosen to move to a smaller home closer to her workplace in Canfield while Miller had, of course, chosen not to transfer schools during our senior year. Instead, he’d commuted the twenty-minute drive to our school in Austintown.
“I just want to check and see if she’s heard from him. And while we’re back there, we can stop in and see my parents. My mom will make her famous white bean chicken chili.” I sang the last word, knowing my mom’s chili was Cassie’s weakness.
She groaned. “My stomach is totally onboard with that idea. And also because I love your parents. But,” she held up a finger, “let it be known that I am not onboard with going to see the witch also known as Mrs. Vaughn.”
Linking my arm through hers, we made our way back to our dorm room to get our things and make the hour drive to Canfield before heading over to Austintown to see my parents.
I had no way of knowing that, later that night, I would experience devastation and loss ten-fold, drastically changing my life.
Forever.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
Fernandina Beach, Florida
“CAN YOU PLEASE PASS THE parmesan, Miles?” Tate asked sweetly. She ignored the weight of everyone’s gaze at the dinner table. They were having their designated Sunday dinner at Momma K.’s house. Momma K., mother of Foster and Laney, the latter whom was one of Tate’s best friends, had enforced Sunday dinner gatherings for their group of friends. With a sideways glance toward the jerk beside her, she amended that. Mostly friends.
“Tate,” Momma K. quietly hissed.
Crap. She loved Laney and Foster’s mother more than anything but she couldn’t restrain the barb which slipped from her lips. It was Miller Vaughn, after all. The asshole who had professed to love her forever and then ditched her, leaving her to find out the hard way that he had moved on, didn’t want anything to do with her.
That fucker.
Directing her gaze at her plate, she mumbled, “Sorry, Momma K.” She did regret being disrespectful at the older woman’s table. She wasn’t sorry, however, for the stinging words she had slung at Miller. He deserved them.
“Here you go, Donnelly.” The deep voice jerked her from her thoughts and she was careful to avoid locking gazes with him. Accepting the dish containing the grated parmesan cheese, she used the spoon to sprinkle some over the pasta Momma K. had made. That woman was like Van Gogh in the kitchen, coming out with works of art.
Minus the whole creepy no ear thing, of course.
“You’re welcome.” She heard his mumbled words, and recognized the snark in them. Keeping her head down as she ate, she rolled her eyes.
“Hey, Miles … wait, I mean Miller.” Lawson smiled widely. “I get so confused by Tate’s cute little nickname for you.” Pausing to tap his index finger to his lips as if in thought, he asked innocently, “Remind me, again, how you two know each other?”
Tate shot Lawson a dirty look. Her coworker and friend merely looked at her expectantly. She knew everyone wanted to know the story between herself and Miller, but she hadn’t yet given in to divulging the details. As pathetic as it was, even though more than a decade had passed, it still hurt to talk about it.
Like, really hurt.
Hell, it hurt just being near the guy. In the same room. And the bastard had chosen to sit beside her tonight. Just to piss her off.
Well, congratulations, Vaughn. It worked, she thought. He’d probably give himself a pat on the back later. She’d like to give him a pat on his head. With a frying pan, maybe. Oh, yes. The mere thought made her lips curve into a smile. That would be so satisfying, just swinging it at him.
Whoa. Maybe I should do some more yoga to try and rid myself of the aggressive violence I feel. Of course, her Zen wasn’t exactly prevalent these days, since Miller had come out of nowhere, knocking her world off its axis. Tate couldn’t blame Foster for it, though, as she was sure that Miller was a good employee at his security consulting firm. But the thought that maybe he wasn’t good enough at his job, that maybe he’d screw up and get fired, to never be heard from again? Oooh, that thought suddenly had merit.
“Hey, Fos?”
Foster Kavanaugh’s head shot up from where he was spinning pasta with his fork on the large spoon. Eyes on her, his tone was cautious. “Yeah?”
“You hiring anyone new? Like, are you happy with your staff?”
Foster exchanged glances with Miller and Kane, two of his three employees, not including his office manager, Noelle Davis. Roman ‘Doc’ Watts hadn’t been able to make it to their dinner as he had been the designated on call person and was overseeing some issues at one of their contract sites in the area.
“My staff’s great,” he answered carefully. “I’m lucky to have these guys onboard.” He shot her a look as if to say, I know what you’re up to and it won’t work.
Damn Special Ops guys and their code of brotherhood. Bleh.
“Speaking of your staff, why haven’t you invited that sweet Noelle to join us for dinner?” Momma K. asked her son.
Foster snorted. “Sweet? That woman is nothing close to being sweet.” He looked back down at his plate, resuming spinning his pasta, muttering, “More like a pain in my ass.”
“Foster Bryant,” Momma K. warned with a stern look.
“Well, she is!” he complained. “She’s the mouthiest person I’ve ever been around.” He tossed his thumb toward his sister, who was two chairs down from him. “Aside from this one, here.”
Eyeing her brother, Laney remarked drily, “Wow. That was eerily similar to a petulant child.”
“Watch it, squirt.” At Foster’s warning, she stuck out her tongue.
“Stop with the tongue action at the table!” Lawson admo
nished.
“Speaking of tongue action …” Laney’s boyfriend, Zach, trailed off suggestively.
“Not in front of my mother,” Laney hissed, cheeks turning red.
“Not in front of the children!” Lawson said in a loud whisper, tipping his head in Tate and Miller’s direction.
“Would anyone like another roll?” Raine piped up, attempting to ease the tension.
Always the peacemaker, Tate thought, smiling at her other best friend.
“Yes, please,” Tate answered, reaching out to receive the basket of rolls being handed down the table to her.
“Save some food for the rest of us,” came the mumbled response from beside her. Her back stiffened at the jibe. It wasn’t her fault she always had an appetite and still maintained her petite size.
Hand clenched over the knife as she buttered the roll, she shot back, hissing out the corner of her mouth, “You shouldn’t be worried since you get your ‘bulk’ from steroids, right?” She purposely stuck out her pinky finger, wiggling it suggestively.
Tate swore she heard a low growl and hid her gratified smile. Oh, yeah. Her implication had hit home: Miller was on steroids and had a tiny penis.
Just when she was in the midst of mentally high-fiving herself, he leaned over to whisper quietly in her ear so as not to be overhead by the others. His hot breath sent shivers down her spine, his closeness sending her entire body into a sensory overload, as his words pushed her over the edge. “You never had complaints about my cock before.”
And, just like that, he got the last word. Because those words of his elicited memories she’d managed to lock away for years. And it all went down the tubes with one sentence.
Damn Miller Vaughn and his freaking cock talk.
* * *
This woman got under his skin like no other. Her implication that he was on steroids was insulting, to say the very least. But trying to say that he had a small penis? That pissed him off. Enough to break form and give mention to their past.